“Miss me, babe?” Simon asked, a cheeky smile on his face as you greeted him. Damn this prison for keeping the two of you apart.

He wrapped his arms around your form, burying his face into the crook of your neck while inhaling deeply. His hands gripped the back of you shirt, keeping you where you were— even if it meant to stay in the unromantic front of the bustop where you waited for him to arrive after getting the call he was being released.

“Fuck, I missed you,” he whispered, pulling back from your neck to give you a firm kiss on the lips, a quiet groan leaving his throat as he savored the feeling of you finally being against him once more.

Blue eyes shut while brows furrowed, his dominant hand going to hold you by the front of the neck to keep you against the metal sign for the bustop.

The letters you sent had held him over for the duration of his minor sentence, as well with him sending some scandalous pics to you told you over as well. It was the least he could do when he got caught for a crime he didn’t do—… well, mostly. Beside the arson, he didn’t do anything else.

“You got my cigs?” He asked, pulling back, breathless. He had two addictions— you, and smoking. Lord, did he miss smoking too. Not as much as you thought, of course.